


You're My (Contact High)

by sheiksleopardthong



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Marijuana, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 16:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiksleopardthong/pseuds/sheiksleopardthong
Summary: If I just breathe...you'll see. Everything is alright.Celebrating "Legalization Day" - Canada's Cannabis Act coming into effect.





	You're My (Contact High)

**Author's Note:**

> So my original thought process for this was "hey its Weed Day. I should write a fanfic about weed" and then it ended up weirdly melancholy oops.
> 
> This universe was a roleplay labour of love for a sizeable group of us about 5 years ago. The only person who's going to know about the events referenced is my bff Miescha, the Vanitas to my Aqua. As we don't talk to really anyone from that group anymore. BUT I like to think that it stands on its own okay? That it's abstract enough to convey a mood, more than a plot.
> 
> Why did I write this from Van's POV when my muse is right there? Listen man I don't make the rules okay.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

"How long's it been?"

Her voice doesn't carry the way it usually does – absorbed by the crashing waves below, by the melancholy in the air. But he hears her perfectly. He always has.

Vanitas closes the umbrella attached to their porch table in the orange light of the setting sun, the metal loud as it scrapes against itself. He thinks they should get a new one. He knows if he mentions it to Aqua she'll tell him it's perfectly fine, that it's a waste to throw it away.

He briefly thinks about just replacing it without telling her, but it's only briefly. He doesn't do that anymore. For the most part.

When the light can hit them evenly, he finally sits beside her, no hesitation before leaning his shoulder against hers.

"Long enough."

There's an anniversary, somewhere in their throats. Walking along the beach. Buzzing just inside their ear, the last mosquito in the sleepy October air. Neither of them plan to acknowledge it further. Both of them are content with that. Vanitas, and Aqua, are familiar with loss. It's an old friend, and tonight he's come over for drinks.

Well, not drinks. They both gave that up long ago.

He pulls a lighter from his pocket. He always keeps one there, though he gave up nicotine long ago now, too. The smooth, cool metal of the zippo pressed tight between his thumb and forefinger does enough to calm him now, when he gets a flash craving, or when something small and stupid irritates him (often those go hand in hand).

Placing the lighter on the table, he reaches into his pocket again, and pulls out a small, paper cylinder. Carefully rolled, pinched at one end. It's expertly packed. Old habits die hard.

Aqua had been watching him out of the corner of her eye, he knows, and looks over at him properly when she sees the joint, raising an eyebrow.

"What, no champagne?"

"I'm saving the good stuff for Aurie's birthday." It's a half-joke. They didn't keep alcohol in the house, but he could get the most expensive bottle of champagne in America with a single phone call, if it was what she wanted.

But his words soften Aqua's expression, a loving smile immediately painting her face; she almost looks like she's going to cry. She's backlit, and Vanitas feels his heart in his throat. Sometimes he wonders if, like him, that she's, to this day, astounded that that they're okay. That their daughters are okay.

"Light the fucking joint," she says with a laugh, voice strained before she clears her throat. "Before I actually start crying."

"Why can't we have both?" he asks, a wry smirk twisting his lips as he does as instructed. "We can smoke and cry. Well, you can cry. I'm too cool and manly to cry."

"Yes, I know," she laughs again, clearer this time. It echoes across the beach a little. Maybe he will cry after all.

Vanitas flicks the lighter against the end of the joint and takes a careful drag, the familiar taste rushing past his tongue and hot into his lungs. He passes it to Aqua, who does the same, lacing her free hand together with his as her eyes close.

They exhale together.


End file.
